


deeper roots

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s11e18 coda, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, M/M, Pining Dean, episode tag: s11e18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6487234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What did he say?” Dean sounds like he swallowed glass. </p><p>Crowley watches Dean for a moment, unapologetically sizing him up. It’s rare that Dean wears his heart so blatantly on his sleeve. His pokerface is usually better than this. </p><p>“I told him that you asked him to kick Lucifer out. He laughed.” </p><p>There’s no other way to read the way Dean’s face falls - he’s heartbroken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deeper roots

**Author's Note:**

> bleep bloop episode coda. I guess these are missing scenes from the end of the episode?
> 
> YOU GUYS, DEAN LOVES CAS **_SO MUCH_**?!?!?!!?!?! LIKE WHOA?!?!?!!
> 
> warnings for spoilers, obviously. and mentions of violence. and alcohol. just - warnings for the tone of the episode.

It doesn’t take long for them to find Crowley because the moron is waiting up the road with the Impala. 

His back is to the Winchesters as they approach and Dean feels his blood pressure skyrocket. He’s moved the twenty feet forward before he realizes it and suddenly he’s got Crowley pinned to the side of the Impala, his arms twisted behind his back.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley wheezes, his phone falling to the ground. “Warn a guy, Winchester.” 

Dean shoves him hard against the car and smirks a little to himself when he hears a grunt, “ _What did you see?"_

Crowley makes a noise that’s somewhere between a growl and a whine, “Maybe if you let go of me I would be so inclined to tell you how your dear little Castiel is faring inside his big brother.” 

Sam sets a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, “Dean...” 

He still hesitates, twisting Crowley’s arms further and further back before he finally steps away with a final shove. Crowley’s nose makes a sound when it collides with the metal of the Impala.

“ **Mother** **_fucker_**.” Crowley snaps, turning around with a hand covering his bleeding noise, “You broke my fucking nose, you twat!” 

“Oops,” Dean replies tonelessly, looking anything but apologetic. “My bad.” 

Crowley glares at him and mumbles something under his breath before glancing at Sam, “Think you can keep your attack dog under control, Moose?” 

“Depends on whether you answer his question,” Sam says evenly, flashing him a smile. 

Crowley narrows his eyes at them and snaps his nose back into place, groaning as everything starts to sew itself back together, “I’m getting to it.” 

“Yeah, well, get to it faster,” Dean snaps, his patience wearing even thinner. “What did you see in Lucifer? How’s Cas? Did you get a chance to talk to him before Lucifer started kicking your ass?” 

“For the record,” Crowley interrupts him before he can go any further, “Lucifer caught me off guard.” 

“Uh huh.” Sam crosses his arms over his chest, more in control than Dean is right now but still anxious to hear the answers himself, “Get to the good part.”

Crowley huffs and looks up at the sky for a moment, “You wound me, Moose.”

Dean growls under his breath before snapping, “CROWLEY. TALK.”

There must be something in the air tonight because Crowley only glares at him for another minute before sighing, “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Sam grabs Dean’s wrist when he sees his brother’s hands flexing next to him.

“Castiel is in one piece,” Crowley starts, giving Dean a significant look. “He says that Lucifer has left him alone for the most part and that he’s just waiting for the big battle.”

“Where is he?” Dean’s heart is beating so fast that Sam can feel his pulse.

“In your kitchen, believe it or not.” He’s clearly amused by this fact, “I know, I couldn’t believe it either. He said it has the best reception.” 

Dean feels like his heart is in his throat.

“Okay.” Sam tightens his hold on his brother’s wrist, “So Cas is okay. That’s good.” 

“What did he say?” Dean sounds like he swallowed glass. 

Crowley watches Dean for a moment, unapologetically sizing him up. It’s rare that Dean wears his heart so blatantly on his sleeve. His pokerface is usually better than this. 

“I told him that you asked him to kick Lucifer out. He laughed.” 

There’s no other way to read the way Dean’s face falls - he’s heartbroken.

“He also said that maybe he should listen to you, considering your more nuanced take on the situation... whatever that means.” 

Dean feels his ears turn pink and yanks his hand away from Sam, turning around and walking a few steps away from the two of them.

“He’s not himself,” Crowley calls out so Dean can hear him. “Frankly I’m worried.”

“JOIN THE CLUB,” Dean snaps, flipping Crowley a middle finger. 

Sam steps in front of Crowley, blocking his view of Dean, “So that’s it? Cas is... apathetic?”

Crowley looks up at Sam and hums noncommittally, “At best. At worst, he’s a bit flippant about the whole situation. It was rather unsettling to see Castiel so...” He squints thoughtfully, “Blasé.”

Sam lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair, “Okay.” He cringes for a moment before offering, “Thanks.”

“No problem, Moose.” Crowley looks down at his hands, feigning boredom, “Now if you don’t mind, I have other matters to attend to. Like not dying.” 

He disappears before Sam can say anything else. Sam just sighs tiredly and looks up at the sky helplessly. 

When he turns around, Dean’s almost at the end of the dirt road they’re parked on. He stops and bends in half, putting his hands on his knees like he’s trying to breathe. 

Sam comes up behind him carefully, making sure that Dean knows he’s coming, “Dean...?”

“Not right now, Sam,” Dean grits out, almost sounding like he’s in pain.

Sam stops in his tracks and holds up his hands, “Okay... you need a minute?”

He takes his brother’s silence as a yes and clears his throat, “I’ll be in the Impala when you’re ready to head home.”

Dean nods shortly, his eyes squeezing tightly to block everything out. 

He waits until Sam’s footsteps are a little farther away before straightening up and stepping into the forest.

It’s hard to breathe in a way that’s intimately familiar to Dean. He hasn’t had one in a while though and the thought of Cas being an anxiety trigger makes Dean bark an abrupt laugh.

He leans against a big oak tree and sits on the ground in front of it, using the trunk as a chair for his back.

Dean lets out a breath and puts his head in between his knees, counting the seconds with each steady breath he manages to take.

“Fuck,” he breathes out in a shaky laugh, “I hate this.” 

Panic attacks are no fun.

After a few minutes he lets his head thump back against the tree and looks up at the sky, the sun setting somewhere in the distance that he can’t see through the trees. 

“Cas, you got your ears on?” 

Dean’s throat is so raw and his voice sounds so rough that he feels a bit silly. He’s not even sure if Cas can hear his prayers right now.

It doesn’t sound like Lucifer is doing much to keep Cas in place which is - good, he guesses. It means that he has no reason to because Cas isn’t fighting him but still. Cas is in one piece. He’s not hurt. He’s just... depressed. 

“Crowley told me about your conversation...” Dean wipes his face off and huffs, “Really? The kitchen? Man, I thought you would’ve chosen the library or your room... you’re right though, the service is, uh...” He snorts at the absurdity of the notion, “It’s pretty good in the kitchen.” 

Dean closes his eyes, sighing tiredly, “Cas... you gotta come home. I, uh...” 

He clears his throat, his face scrunching up uncomfortably, “I’m kinda losing it, man. I just... I don’t know what to do. I’ve read half the books in the library and there’s **_nothing_** on Amara, Cas. There’s a hell of a lot about angelic possession though and what it does to the vessels...” 

When he opens his eyes, the sun has mostly set and an owl ‘who’s’ somewhere nearby. 

“Sammy - well, he was trying to be pragmatic, I guess. He said your vessel was probably the only one strong enough on the planet to hold Lucifer...” Dean smiles bitterly and looks down at his hands, “He’s probably not wrong.” 

It still stings a little that Sam was so dismissive about it.

“But man, your body stopped being a vessel a hell of a long time ago,” he mumbles more to himself and rubs at his eyes. “It’s been your body since, what... the last time you and Lucifer went toe-to-toe? Isn’t that when you said Jimmy officially got to go to Heaven?” 

He’s stalling - which is ridiculous for so many reasons but mainly because it’s not like Cas is here, in front of him. It’s not like Lucifer’s here. There’s no reason to stall. 

“Cas...” Dean starts, his voice cracking, “I know... I think I know what you’re feeling. And I - I need you to know that the thing inside your head that’s telling you this is the right thing to do, that saying yes to Lucifer was a good idea? That voice is wrong. And that voice is a fucking _idiot_.” 

He sniffles, wiping his cheeks off indignantly, “You’re not alone, man. You never were. And shit, maybe this is my fault but - you gotta know, Cas. You gotta know that you’re more than a tool or a weapon. You’re **_family_**. Me and Sammy haven’t been the best family to you lately, I know that, but man... you gotta know how important you are. You gotta know how much _we need you_.

And not because you’ve got your mojo or because you can lift like a kajillion tons without breaking a sweat. Cas. We need you. _I_ need you.”

Dean huffs, “Man, everything’s... it’s a little easier to breathe when you’re around. When you’re here, everything doesn’t feel as heavy, you know?”

A twig snaps somewhere to his left but Dean ignores it and keeps going. 

“So I think I get it. What you’re feeling. But Cas... this is wrong. Maybe Sam’s right and you don’t want to be saved - I don’t believe that. I’ve been in your shoes and I think you want to be saved, you just don’t think you deserve it.

Remember, Cas? You said that to me once. ‘You don’t think you deserve to be saved.’” Dean chuckles bitterly, “Man, you know how long that haunted me? It felt like you were taunting me with something...” 

He shakes his head a little, his face falling into something more determined, “I’m trying to tell you that you’re wrong, Cas. That voice that keeps telling you you’re worthless? That we’d be better off without you? That voice is **_wrong_**. You should know by now what a fucking mess I am when you’re not around.”

Dean looks up at the sky and tries to find the star Castiel told him about once. He said that it was the first thing in creation that he’d made himself with no input from any superiors. It was his first real rebellion. 

“You gotta kick him out, Cas. You gotta throw Lucifer out on his ass and come home, man. Cause we can’t do this without you, alright?” 

“ _...please, Cas. Come home_.” 

Dean’s prayer is fuzzy and hard to hear over Lucifer’s screams. Amara is strong, stronger than either one of them gave her credit for, and Castiel’s not sure how he’s not feeling the impact. 

There’s nothing else after that last plea and Castiel sits in the quiet, darkened kitchen staring at a now dead television. 

 _Dean_. That was Dean. 

“I think your boyfriend misses you,” Lucifer mumbles as he appears in the doorway, looking bloody and beaten to shit. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Castiel replies reflexively, not looking up from the TV.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, I guess,” Lucifer shrugs and limps over to the freezer, grabbing some ice.

Castiel ignores the shuffling, something deep in his gut warming as he replays Dean’s prayer to himself. 

“So.” Lucifer says matter-of-factly as he flops into the chair across from Cas, “You gonna kick me out?” 

He glances up for a moment and raises an eyebrow at his brother, “I haven’t decided yet.” 

Lucifer rotates his neck and it sounds like bubble wrap popping, “You realize I can kill you.” 

“You haven’t yet,” Castiel shrugs and goes back to looking at the TV.

“This is true,” he hums and holds up the bag of ice to his lip. “I suppose I’ve grown fond of you.” 

“The feeling is not mutual.” 

Lucifer snorts and brings his other hand up to his chest, “Oof. You wound me, Castiel.”

“Apologies,” he replies blankly, his eyes never leaving the TV.

He feels Lucifer watching him, trying to read his face. This is something he excels at - his pokerface. Dean keeps telling him that he should go into poker professionally.

“So, I might’ve underestimated the depth of Amara’s power,” Lucifer says eventually as a way to break the silence. 

“Yes, I would say there’s a very good chance you did,” Castiel hums. He looks up again, feeling a little braver. “I think everyone has underestimated her. Perhaps that is why she’s so...” He tries to pick his words carefully, “...Pissed.”

That actually gets a laugh from Lucifer and Castiel can’t help the smug satisfaction he radiates when Lucifer winces.

“You’re funny, Castiel,” Lucifer says after a moment, switching the ice pack to his cheek. “I hope you keep your sense of humor.”

What he doesn’t say - what he doesn’t _have_ to say - is that he has no intention of letting Castiel go without a fight. 

Castiel meets Lucifer’s gaze head on, an ever-growing feeling of defiance growing inside of him once again.

“It hasn’t left me yet.” 

Dean stays up for a few more hours after Sam goes to bed. 

It takes him a while to work up the courage to go to bed. His nightmares have started again and he doesn’t want to know what his brain has cooked up for tonight.

A montage of every time he’s lost Cas, probably. 

He takes his time walking to his room, draining the last of his beer on the way there. He tosses it into the recycling bin outside of the kitchen door without looking. It lands amongst cardboard boxes without shattering. 

Dean pushes his bedroom door open and sighs, looking around the room.

“Welp,” he mumbles, “Time to face the music.” 

He makes himself go over to his dresser and grab a pair of PJ pants, deciding to forego a shower until the morning. He steps into them slowly, feeling a little off-balance from all the beer and just today in general. 

Dean yawns as he throws his shirt over in the direction of the hamper before face planting onto his bed with a satisfied groan. 

Rolling over takes more effort than Dean would care to admit but it only takes a few seconds before he’s comfortable, the foam molding itself to his body again.

His eyes are already starting to droop so he rolls over reluctantly to turn off the light. He freezes though when he sees words starting to appear on the side of his nightstand. 

‘ _Be home soon. C_ ’ 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at deansmom.


End file.
